Marianne Faithfull

You lads see me wash the glasses, wipe the floors,
Make the beds, Im the best of servants.
You can kindly throw me pennies and Ill thank you very much.
When you see me ragged and tattered in this dirty shit hotel,
You dont know in hell whos talking,
You still dont know in hell whos talking.
Yet one fine day there will be roars from the harbour
And youll ask, "what is all that screeching for ? "
And youll see me smiling as I dunk the glasses
And youll say, "whats she got to smile at for ? "
And the ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Waits there at the quay.
You say, "work on, wipe the glasses, my girl."
And just slip me a dirty six-pence.
And your pennies will be taken, and your beds will be made,
(but I doubt if forty winks will come anybodys way)
And you still dont know in hell whos talking,
You still dont know in hell whos talking.
Still one fine day therell be a loud bang from the harbour,
And youll ask, "jesus christ, what was that bang ? "
And youll see me standing right behind the window,
And youll say, "why has she got the evil eye ? "
And the ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Will be aimed at this town.
So then lads, its time for tears, no more laughs at the bar,